Believe it or not, sometimes I actually do pause at the random invites I get. One email that came through last week was for a reception at a furniture store for a chair launch. Do I give a shit about chairs? No. Do I like raffles and open bars? Indeed. So, am I going? Undecided. We'll see how that one plays out.
Friday night, I hung with the friend C in preparation for the immersion in Miami. We met up at Superbar before ending up at a mag launch/concert in midtown. The headliners were this group I went to HS with, several years older. I remember I used to think it was a big deal that they were playing all these shows and opening for cool people. I caught their slot before Slick Rick in '98 I believe and I remember being so underwhelmed. Six and some change years later, the beats are still tight but the flow is still weak. Some things never change.
By the time Saturday night rolled around, I was beat. I had been out way too late almost every night and my mood had been deteriorating as the week went by. I really had to kick my own ass to get to the last Public Enemy panel at NYU -- I was late as shit, but it was really worth the trip. (The response to the record company exec who wanted to know how to "build" consciousness in his artist: "Get a new profession." And the woman who said "I've got to ask two questions since I'm the only sister who got to the mic." The Observer roundup has more jewels including some I missed.) I strolled through Washington Square Park afterwards, excitedly telling Mr. Daddy about the event and setting up a joint birthday trip to our fave spot. I wandered into Kmart and felt perplexed when they said that they weren't selling gloves anymore. Why the fuck not when it's 20 degrees? I think that's way more appropriate than tank tops and flip flops!
I dragged my carcass home and made a big dinner without burning the place down. (Fun fact we got at the lease signing: our building is so old that if there was a fire in our place, our shit would get burned and whatever, but the walls are so thick that the neighbors have nothing to worry about. Woo?) I lounged and considered a nap, checking email and feeling blah until I decided to go out and keep it local(ish). Some folks I sorta know were DJing about a mile away at a place I wanted to check out for a min.
I ran in and got a drink before going off in search of the bathroom. I leaned on the wall and thought that builders need to realize that equality just isn't logical in terms of bathrooms. I feel like I waste hours of my life out and about just waiting on line to get in one. At the far room, I noticed a guy getting pushed out by a disembodied hand. He looked startled but was also grinning madly. Fucking sniffers, I thought to myself with an eyeroll. I looked at him dispassionately as he walked my way until my brain clicked into gear. It was The DJ.
He was newly back from a Caribbean trip, looking refreshed and great. Actually, scorching hot. So fucking hot that it beat my sniffer bias into submission, but not enough for me to be more than my usual blase self. Sometimes I wonder how I'm perceived. I know I definitely run hot and cold. When I like someone, I'm friendly yet a little reserved. But when I'm just kicking it in a non-tension filled sort of way, I can be super chatty and engaged (which then gets mistaken for flirting...blah). So, I like him, but I'm not feeling him per se, since I hardly feel any closer to knowing anything about him than I did back in October. But anyways, that's something for offline chatter which is why I keep getting in trouble/my spot blown up. Because who you least expect is always reading. We chatted about maybe having the birthday party at his night (undecided) and both heading down to the WMC this year. And that was it, more or less.
Monday, I was back in the the thick of event planning and thinking of all these places to hit with flyers and promo. I wish it was possible to just throw flyers in the air and people would just take them. I'm becoming way more anti-social and hermit-like in my old age. Talking to strangers enthusiastically? No thanks. But, part of life is to suck it up and deal. Or so the mysterious "they" say.
But don't mind me, I've got a birthday staring me in the face. I'm another year closer to infirmity and feeling rather disgruntled about it. I still young (natch), but mentally I feel about 124 and I've got to go-go-go for the next few weeks while running on fumes. Perhaps a good night's sleep would change everything.
Posted by Candicissima at March 3, 2005 01:14 PM